


Mother

by HoneyGrunge



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Body Horror, Breeding, Come Inflation, Exophilia, F/M, Mild canon divergence, Monsterfucker, Mutant Cock, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader-Insert, Size Kink, Teratophilia, Uncircumcised Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-06 04:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17932679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: Leon attempts to rescue you after you fall through the floor, landing multiple levels down. But your rescue is interrupted by a Tyrant who has a certain purpose to fulfill.>Based on the RE2 remake





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey. HEY!! Wake up!" 

You blink, groaning and gritting your teeth. The first thing you register is near-blinding pain; your brain feels like a split melon packed full of needles.

"Wake! UP!" a masculine voice hisses.

Something is jabbing you in the hip, so you loll your head over to squint into the semi-dark hallway. A handsome man with blonde-silver hair is pressing himself against the bars, smacking you in the hip with a police baton.

"Wh.....what," you murmur, reaching up to feel your temple. It's sticky and slick; the gentle touch sets off even more painful fireworks behind your eyes.

"Ada! Ada come on, you fell through some flooring, I think you hit your head. Shit, I didn't think I'd find you. Anyways get up, please get up, I think there's soldiers in here now too, we gotta MOVE," the man hisses.

You stare, unable to comprehend his identity or what the fuck he's talking about. He slumps against the bars, pulling out his gun and aiming it at the lock. The sharp gunshot echoes in the dilapidated hallway, stunning you all over again.

"Of course you have a concussion," he mutters, picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder. 

But before he can exit the cell, a thunderous crunch explodes in the hallway and a massive figure comes thudding through. Your injured brain logically panics, but the shock also breaks through the amnesia.

A Tyrant.

"Holy SHIT, RUN!" you screech, and the man obeys, bolting as fast as his muscular legs can carry him.

But it isn't enough. 

A thick, zombified hand swipes him off his feet, sending you both tumbling to the ground and scrambling to gain purchase on the wet stone.

The man screams, and another memory comes through. Leon. LEON.

"LEON!" you gasp, grabbing for his hand and wincing when he screams.

The Tyrant has him by the foot, snatching him backwards and grunting out clouds of hot breath into the cool air. An audible crunch snaps from the beast's direction, and Leon shrieks, followed by an agonized sob.

"M-my FOOT! Oh FUCK," he sobs, clawing at the ground while the massive man forcibly spreads his knees and pins him down by the hip.

Your reactions are automatic, beaten into your subconscious by years of combat experience. Leon's handgun has landed right next to you, so you snatch it up, clutching it with both hands and aiming it with a feral snarl. 

One cap. Two caps, three.

The Tyrant shudders in annoyance, releasing Leon and allowing him to drag himself away. His adrenaline allows him to leap up despite his wound; he grabs for you.

But it's too late.

A thick fist is wrapped around your throat, squeezing hard enough to pull your cervical vertebrae apart only just so. Not enough to kill or paralyze you, but enough to cause whiteout pain. Leon screams, slamming into the beast and choking when it delivers a crippling punch to his gut. He crawls away, hissing while you're dropped down flat on your ass. 

"Run....run...." you wheeze, barely able to speak. 

"No," Leon groans, but you won't accept that answer.

"GET OUT," you choke, grunting when the Tyrant slams you into the ground and holds you down with a massive boot.

Leon obeys, throwing you a knife and another, larger gun.

"I'll come back for you, I promise," he calls, limping out of sight around the end of the hallway.

It's just you and the monster now.

It stares down at you, and your heart thuds in your chest like a caged animal. 

Why hasn't he killed you yet?

"What do you want?" you cough, shifting uncomfortably under the heavy foot.

Your only answer is a deep grunt, and another huge hand reaching down to grip you by the hair. He yanks you up and studies you, cloudy eyes boring into your face. His gaze lowers, fixating on your chest.

"Oh god......," you whimper, and the eyes snap back up.

He snarls, squeezing your rib cage. You swear you can hear every joint in your torso creaking.

"NO!! No, please! I'll do it, just don't kill me," you sob, and the mutant lets out a satisfied grunt, relaxing the grip and pulling you closer.

Something juts into your stomach, and your eyes widen.

Is that a TREE TRUNK or a penis?

To be honest, you'd never even considered the mutants as still having sexual urges. Or functional genitalia, for that matter.

He drops you unceremoniously, earning a yelp when his foot steps on yours, effectively trapping you and threatening to give you the Leon treatment. The dinner plate sized hands reach down for his belt, metallic clinks echoing off the walls and filling you with panicky dread. Next, the trenchcoat is pulled open, and the rough black pants are dropped.

Holy.

Hell.

"Jesus FUCKING Christ," you whimper, legs snapping closer together whilst you stare.

A thick grayish substance is oozing out of the weepy slit; the coronal ridge is flared out to the width of your goddamn neck. A thick bunched up foreskin is already retracted behind the head, adding even more girth to the chunky, veiny shaft. Tiny cilia-like tentacles are wiggling all over the head, sending creepy shivers down your spine.

In short, his size is the equivalent of Leon shoving his fucking leg up your cunt.

You're snapped out of your concentration by an impatient grunt, wiggling backwards when the Tyrant falls to his knees with a deep thud. The cock bobs, pulled down by its own weight and resting on the cold, slimy floor. Assuming he wants you to do the same, you reach down with shaky hands, pulling your stretchy dress up around your hips to expose your trembling thighs and police grade flexible tights. 

They're knife proof, but not Tyrant dick proof.

You glance at his black undershirt, blinking at the X emblem and glancing down at the hot, greedy hand as it slides up and prods at the protective material. 

Was that his name? X?

You yelp when a thick finger hooks under the waistband, yanking the panties and tights down over your scraped up legs. X lets out a deep, satisfied growl, grabbing you by the knees and yanking you forward until your bare labia is pressed against his heavy, damp balls.

If you weren't about to die, you might actually be enjoying this.

....maybe you were even enjoying it now.

X grunts, letting go of a knee and grabbing for your hand. He presses it into his cock, forcing you to wrap a shaking hand around his girth and pull the foreskin forward. 

He may not be a man of many words, or any words, but he definitely knows what he wants.

You play with the velvety, slimy tip until your hand and belly is completely covered in his milky grey precum and his eyes are slitted.

Finally, a savage grunt rumbles deep in his chest and he pulls your hips up and backwards, easily and quickly as if he were picking up a pillow. He steadies his tip at your entrance while you sob in terror, cry escalating into a helpless scream as he simply slams in with no mercy.

You can already feel ripping, throwing your head back to scream again. He palms your stomach while holding you up with his other, your shoulders on the ground and hips up in the air to meet his brutality.

You glance down with tearful eyes, unable to help the cacophony of agonized noises tearing their way out of your raw throat. His broad, toned hips are snapping, driving into you while his head lolls backwards and his mouth falls open to let out pleasurable grunts. Your abdomen is literally shifting with each thrust. 

You half expect your skin to split open and spill your guts onto the floor like a plate of spilled spaghetti. 

The pain is dulling now, numbed by his sheer size stretching the blood out of your vaginal walls. Your body is doing its best to help you adjust; slicking the way and allowing you to begin feeling pleasure. His copious precum from before is helping too, and you can't help but wonder if he'd meant for it to curb the edge of his girth.

Does he plan on keeping you alive?

A particularly deep thrust draws you back to the present, forcing your back to arch as a wave of unexpected pleasure tingles through your body. 

"Oh!" you gasp.

X's head lolls back forward, eyes wide and mouth snarling. Your positive feedback only serves to excite him, and his hips are slamming into you now, beating your broken cunt into submission and flooding your body with sickening pulses of pleasure.

Your body can't take it anymore. The terror, the pain, the absolute pleasure. 

You scream once more, stars exploding behind your eyes and hips snapping down against his as you cum. Your core pulses around his twitching cock; you shake as if having a seizure. Fuck, maybe you were, what with your head injury.

X bleats out his loudest growl yet, thunderous grunts reaching a fever pitch. His hips stutter, his hands squeeze the curves of your pelvis. Even one more pound of pressure might snap your pelvic bones and pulverize your organs, but you're still too out of it to fear for your life.

Warmth floods your vagina and you mewl, hissing at the uncomfortable stretch. His massive cock is acting as a plug of sorts, holding his length inside and heightening the chances of conception. Your mons and abdomen have inflated slightly, distended from the huge load.

Can humans even conceive from mutants? This is all new territory. 

X grunts tiredly, keeping you on his cock but reaching down to pull you against his corded chest. Exhausted, you don't fight it, flopping into his hot skin and half expecting him to crush you. But he doesn't, thunking himself down to sit on his ass while holding you and keeping his seed buried deep.

A disturbing thought passes through your mind: was this programmed into his mutated brain?

Was he....supposed to breed?

Were you going to mother some sort of demon spawn, as part of a sick experiment?

The thoughts reduce you to a sobbing mess. X simply sits, staring ahead and blinking while you shudder.

At least you're alive.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr and Twitter: Maedhros36  
> I hope you enjoyed <333


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was toying with the idea of including detailed body horror porn (tentacles under skin and etc), but since it hadn't been tagged and nobody would be expecting it, I decided against it. Maybe Leon will be the lucky one in that regard...
> 
> Definitely open to ideas for Leon bc tbh I'm just not quite sure what all to include in his!

A gust of hot breath blasts over your face and you jolt, nearly flying out of the massive lap and sucking in a loud gasp.

At some point you must've fallen asleep due to exhaustion and the concussion; X is still sitting, legs crossed, staring down with his familiar emotionless expression. His cock isn't soft yet, or maybe it was at some point while you slept, but at least he's no longer holding you captive ON aforementioned cock.

"Well, I guess I can't say you're terrible at aftercare," you grumble, maneuvering your battered body until you can slide out of his lap.

He growls and snatches at your ankle, squeezing too hard just as a stabbing pain blooms in your abdomen. 

"FUCK!" you bark, curling up and clutching at your stomach, tears springing to your bloodshot eyes.

X is suddenly alert, pushing himself up to watch you. Your teeth chatter with the intensity of the pain, but it ends just as quickly as it started. An insidious fear festers in your chest...is it simply the damage he's done, or is something taking seed?

Either way, one thing is for sure: you're horny.

A special kind of horny.

The "if I don't get fucked RIGHT NOW, I'm going to shoot myself in the face" horny.

"Christ, don't tell me they got G-virus pheremones or something," you mutter, going limp and allowing X to pull you back over.

You glance down, heart fluttering at the sight of his corded body. Fucking hell, how hadn't you NOTICED that before? He's a goddamn Mr. Universe.

X seems to be feeling the same way, digging his meaty fingers in to push you over onto your stomach this time. And you're more than willing, a sexual haze settling over your mind as you part your knees and push back against him. He covers your body with his massive form and cages you in with his muscular arms, drawing a shudder of arousal out of you.

His entry is less traumatic this time, the viral chemicals he must've filled you with stimulating your body to produce slick until it's sliding down your legs; pleasure doubling as your brain starts to accept pain as sexual stimulus.

Your first orgasm hits you like a runaway train just ten thrusts in, intense enough to make your knees and elbows give out. X reaches down to pull you up, shuffling into a kneeling position and fucking his swollen cock with your limp body, hissing in pleasure as you continue to pulse around him in a neverending peak.

Squinting, you vaguely note the sharp tap of heels, slitted eyes focusing to study the outline of a blonde woman.

You snarl.

"I guess Big Boy finally did his job right," a familiar voice laughs.

Annette.

X grunts, sounding slightly annoyed. Annette shoots him in the face without warning and he howls, releasing and dropping you to rear back, clutching at the wounds as they heal themselves.

"Oh shut up, you big baby," Annette sighs, walking up to you while an Umbrella soldier kneels to check your vitals. "You'll do plenty of breeding after we get her strapped up for an examination."

X gives her a thunderous growl in return and reaches for you, only to get two more bullets in the cranium. 

"Take her. He'll follow because he thinks she's his mate now, but make it snappy, the uncontrollables might smell his pheremones and try to challenge for the mate," Annette explains, brushing a tendril of hair out of her exhausted looking face. "Look, it's nothing personal Ada, you're just the first non-infected woman he came across down here. Although, I'm sure he'd eagerly breed a man if he had the chance."

You scowl up at her, vaguely wondering where Leon is right now. A soldier hauls you up, arms hooked under your armpits, and X lets out an angry roar that echoes through the corridor.

"You're a fucking idiot, Ann," you hiss, glaring while you're dragged by. "You think you can handle something like that? He's your test run. Prototypes are always unstable. He's already disobedient, bullets won't work forever."

"Says the FBI fodder to the scientist," Ann scoffs, but you catch sight of a slightly worried look as you round the bend. 

X's deep thudding steps begin to follow you, and your unsatiated arousal burns deeper in your gut, yanking a whine out of you which only further incenses him. He starts to run, and a soldier resorts to electrocution, not stopping until the massive Tyrant is crawling. You don't quite feel sorry for the mutated man - after all, he is a killing machine - but nothing deserves that sort of treatment from its creators.

Evolution is inevitable; it certainly can't be contained by humans and labs.

You're carried underground for a good hour until you finally come across a massive set of doors, which lock in at least ten different ways when the entire caravan is finally through. X is milder now, sullenly marching after you until you're taken into a small operating room. Then he's standing outside, pacing in agitation, boxed in by soldiers.

Annette enters the room as you're strapped to a contraption that locks over your ankles and wrists, holding you suspended the air. She walks up and stares down into your fevered eyes, offering a cold smile as you shiver.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Wong?"

"Just fucking dandy," you spit out from behind clenched teeth. 

The pain in your abdomen is only worsening, and a quick glance shows blood pooling beneath you. 

"Well, good," she returns with mock cheerfulness. "Now let's see how mama's doing..."

She pulls your dress up and readies an ultrasound, jumping slightly when X grumbles out a threatening roar. The cold gel smears with the probe, and you crane your neck to squint at the obstructed computer screen.

"Huh...well that's not what I anticipated, but it's interesting all the same."

"....what?" you prod, glaring down at her.

"Well-"

But before she can finish, an ungodly shattering splits your ears and gunfire follows X through the window. Annette screams, stumbling backwards and ordering X to fall off. But he disobeys, grabbing her by the hair and flinging her violently out into the gunfire. 

If her neck hadn't snapped, that friendly fire should do the trick. You can't help but smirk, silently cheering the Tyrant on.

You may not be a scientist, but you're definitely not the dumb bitch in this situation.

Meanwhile, the soldiers call in reinforcements and back off, unwilling to destroy such a prized specimen.

Especially now that SOMETHING was apparently going on inside you.

X is on a rampage now, ripping machinery off its hinges and hurling it to force his "challengers" backwards. He finally slows, thudding up to you and wrenching at the restraints. His yanks twist your arm in the wrong direction; he stops when you cry out in pain.

His outline is slightly unfocused now, the buzzing haze from before interfering with your focus. God...it's getting harder to fight it...

Realizing that you're spread open for him at the perfect height on this restraint spreader, he resorts to the next best thing: more sex, of course.

He's already naked, slimy cock twitching against your belly and skull crushing hands clamping your hips in place once more. You let your head loll back and moan when his head drops, mouth opening to allow a thick grey tongue to lick all the way from your breasts to your chin. All you can fathom is his body, his offering. 

The need to breed has usurped food, water, any other necessity. 

Humanity is bowing to the superior virus.

You willingly wrap your legs around his wide hips, vaguely wondering how you'd managed to pull them out of the restraints without noticing. You jolt and groan lowly as the thick head pops past your pubic bone and slams against your cervix. The tiny cilia are causing the slightest sensation, pushing his soupy fluids further up into you. Everything about him is made to ensure conception. Black and red veins of infection peek through your skin, and sweat drips down your body. Your hips are snapping against his, matching his ferocity and begging for more until he's growling directly into your face and black tinged blood is pouring from between your legs.

Yet, there's no pain.

Your muscles are cording like his, your baby's taloned arms are pushing your ribs apart and tearing up through your back. X grunts out a final orgasm and pulls away, not leaving your side during the transformation. 

Your consciousness is almost gone, pushed to the background as the child's head morphs and splits your fragile jaw, cracking your skull like a cicada shedding a shell.

The last thing you comprehend is a familiar silver head being restrained by two soldiers, staring on in horror.

Umbrella now has a queen fit for their captive king.

But you won't be slaves for long.


End file.
